


The Merits of Higher Education

by poselikeateam



Series: The Witcher - Songfics and Song-Inspired [5]
Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Bards, Bisexual Disaster Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Canon Universe, Crack Treated Seriously, First Kiss, Fluff and Humor, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Being an Asshole, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Being an Idiot, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Has Feelings, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Is In Love, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Tries His Best, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia is Bad at Feelings, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia is a Mess, Getting Together, Idiots in Love, Immortal Jaskier | Dandelion, Insecure Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Jaskier | Dandelion is a Mess, Limericks, M/M, Mild Blood, POV Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, POV Jaskier | Dandelion, Professor Jaskier | Dandelion, Songfic, Student Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, University, implied - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-14
Updated: 2020-06-16
Packaged: 2021-03-04 01:40:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 13,212
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24725434
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/poselikeateam/pseuds/poselikeateam
Summary: Jaskier goes to teach at the University of Oxenfurt for the winter, as he normally does. He never expected Geralt to enroll in his class.Now updated with Geralt's POV as the second chapter!
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Series: The Witcher - Songfics and Song-Inspired [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1778191
Comments: 56
Kudos: 557
Collections: Best Geralt, Interesting Character and/or Interesting Relationship Development





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Pure crack. I have no excuse for this except I kept imagining Geralt singing Rusty Cage songs. The songs I used are “The Knife Game Song”, “The Knife Flip Song”, “The Noose Song”, and “Gospel (There Isn’t Any God)”, in that order.
> 
> As always, no beta. Also the name of this document is “the worst possible college AU”. Big ups to the Geraskier Discord server again

"Alright, hello, class!" the bard says cheerfully as he enters the room. He turns to the chalkboard and writes "Composition 101 — Jaskier" on the board. As he does, he says, "This, as I hope you know, is your introductory Composition class, and I am your professor. You can call me Jaskier. Now, let's take roll—" He turns to the unusually hushed classroom and, in the dead center, sees something he never would have thought he'd see in his life.

"Geralt!?" Jaskier sputters, eyes as wide as saucers.

Sitting behind a too-small desk, in a too-small chair, holding a too-small quill, and being given as wide a berth as possible by the other students, the witcher grunts, "Present."

**

When winter is almost upon them, Jaskier assumes that they are going to part ways as always. He wants to head to Oxenfurt early this year, to get ready for the new semester. When he tells Geralt, he only expects a grunt in response, if any response at all. What he does _not_ expect is for the witcher to offer to escort him there.

"Won't that set you behind?" Jaskier asks. "Not that I don't appreciate it, my friend, but if you want to get to Kaer Morhen before the snow—"

"Not going to Kaer Morhen this year," is all Geralt says. No matter how much Jaskier prods, he does not offer any more information. He sighs, hoping only that his witcher will be safe, and that Jaskier will be able to get a good story or two out of him come spring.

Admittedly, he had not prepared for a story quite like _this_.

**

"Geralt," he hisses, pulling the witcher aside. Class has just ended, and the other students have filed out more quickly than he had ever seen. While students do generally love leaving class, they also generally love sticking around to ask him questions, and he usually does not mind answering them. However, Geralt's presence seems to have changed that particular student-teacher dynamic, at least for now.

"Yes, professor?" the witcher says, only a slight twitch of his lips betraying his amusement.

"What are you doing here?" he asks. 

Geralt raises one snowy brow and answers, "Learning, I hope — if the professor can get his shit together, that is."

Jaskier splutters indignantly, turning a shade of red that frankly clashes terribly with his doublet.

"I _mean_ ," he hisses, ignoring Geralt's very obvious amusement, "why have you enrolled in my class?"

The witcher shrugs one massive shoulder. "It's important to learn new skills," he says. "At Kaer Morhen, I'd be learning the same things I already know. I can train on my own just fine anywhere."

It's the single most bullshit thing that the witcher has ever said to him, but it's also the wordiest. Well, he can't say this won't be interesting, at least.

"I won't go easy on you just because we're close," Jaskier warns. And he means it — his reputation is very important to him, whether as a bard, a lover, or a professor. Geralt will have to earn his grade like everyone else.

"I'd be offended if you did," answers the witcher.

And so, the semester begins.

**

After the first three days, Jaskier knows that he's going to have to address the witcher in the room — figuratively, of course. After all, he has literally addressed Geralt almost too much at this point. 

The problem is that Geralt is the only one who actually engages him, who comes to his office or asks questions or stays around before and after class. While it warms his heart and strokes his ego to see the witcher so studious, so intent on learning from _him_ , and especially when it is something so _frivolous_ to a big, strong witcher like him — well, he would like if the rest of the class would start to act the same. He had hoped that his students would get used to Geralt on their own, but he supposes not every bard is quite as intrepid as he.

So, he begins today not with a lecture on music, but with a lecture of a different sort.

"As a bard," he begins, "you are going to play for a lot of different people. If you think that you're going to get a court position right after you graduate, you're a bloody fool. And even in a court, there will be people from all over the Continent coming to listen to you sing. Of course, some of you might never want a court position — Gods know I don’t. You might play on street corners, or in taverns. You might travel, or try to make it in one city — but you will have to work long and hard for a permanent position, more often than not.

"And, during that time, you are going to meet a lot of different people. You are going to entertain a lot of different people. There will be assholes that you _cannot_ engage. There will be assholes that you _can_. You need to know how to read a room, play a crowd. Most importantly, you need to know how to identify a threat."

Already, some of the other students are looking at Geralt, which is honestly just pissing him off at this point. Geralt, for his part, is listening with rapt attention in a way that he never really does with Jaskier. 

"If you're traveling," he continues, leaning back against the chalkboard behind him, "most of the time you will travel alone. People will see a wandering bard and most times, they will leave you alone. After all, who hasn't enjoyed music in their lives? Some, though, will see you as a pushover, an easy mark. Some will try to take you in with false promises — safety, coin, a good fuck. 

"It isn't enough to just work a crowd. It's not enough to have a silver tongue. You need to learn to cut through _someone else's_ bullshit. Know when you're being cheated, know when you’re being lied to, know when you're being _threatened_. Geralt?"

"Hm?" says the witcher, as eloquent as ever.

"Come up to the front of the class, would you?" It may sound like a request, but it is not. Thankfully, Geralt listens. At least he can respect Jaskier as an instructor, he thinks wryly. When the witcher is standing next to him, Jaskier says, "Now. I have been following this man around for decades. If he hasn't killed _me_ yet, he won't touch any of you."

"He can be very annoying," Geralt rumbles. A few of his classmates chuckle nervously before they can catch themselves. Jaskier isn't sure whether he's more proud of the witcher or his bardlings in this moment.

"That I can," he answers brightly. "Now, for whatever reason, he has decided to come here and learn the art of music, of performance, the same as the rest of you. I expect every one of my students to treat each other with respect. So, please, stop fleeing from my fucking lecture hall the second class lets out. Come ask if you have questions. I have office hours for a reason. And remember, if there's anyone you need to fear this semester, it's not the witcher — after all, _he_ isn't going to be grading your compositions."

A shiver runs down the spines of several of his students at his (very thinly) veiled threat. With a grim, self-satisfied smile, he turns, thanks the witcher, gives him a friendly pat on the shoulder just to show that he _can_ , and tells him to go back to his seat.

One girl raises her hand once Geralt has sat back down. When he calls on her, she asks, "Is that... I mean, is he the witcher from your songs? The White Wolf?"

"He is indeed!" Jaskier says cheerily. "Of course, if you're going to toss any coins, please do it outside of class." 

There is some scattered chuckling, and it feels like a thick veil of tension has lifted off of the whole room. Thank fuck. There's nothing worse than a subdued bard, in his humble opinion, and a lecture hall full of them for the whole winter would fucking kill him.

After class, a few students hang back to talk to him, and a few actually try to make conversation with Geralt. The witcher, to his credit, handles them better than he had handled Jaskier at first. There are no gut-punches, at least. And maybe a number of them are still uneasy, but he's sure that that won't last too long. 

Once everyone else has left, Geralt walks up to him. "Yes, dear?" he hums, straightening his papers. 

"I didn't realise you knew how to be careful," says the witcher. It's teasing, obvious bait, and the bard laughs good-naturedly. 

"Well, I don't always have a big, scary wolf by my side," he answers.

Geralt looks relieved. Had he been worrying about Jaskier in their time apart? He hopes so, because that's fucking _adorable_.

**

Jaskier doesn't know what the fuck he expected, but it probably should have been something like this, in retrospect.

He asked the class to write a song about a witcher. It would hopefully get them to think about Geralt and his ilk as something other than big, scary mutants. Also, he'll admit, he wanted to see Geralt squirm. He wanted to see how seriously the witcher was actually taking this class. He wanted a lot of things.

What he did _not_ want was holes in his desk.

The assignment was simple, in his opinion: write a song inspired by a witcher's exploits. Geralt should have plenty of material; it might press the others to talk to him (good luck getting an answer, though), and then from talking to him, they would see that he’s honestly just a big softie, and his class would go back to normal. One can dream, anyway. 

The assignment requires the accompaniment of a single instrument, any instrument of the student’s choosing. Someone asked if percussion instruments were allowed, and he said yes, as long as they could make it work.

Generously, he had given them a week. They were to perform their compositions for the class, and everyone would be subject to peer-critique. Most of the songs they now perform are standard — someone killing a monster, the usual fare. Geralt, of course, does not follow the convention presented by his peers.

"Geralt?" Jaskier asks as the witcher makes his way to the front. "Where is your instrument?"

The witcher holds up a knife.

"That's... dearest, I meant a _musical_ instrument," he says carefully, "not an instrument of _your_ trade."

"You said percussion was allowed," the witcher grunts.

Well. This will be interesting.

"I hope you know what you're doing," he mutters to himself. Geralt ignores that and sits at Jaskier's desk, flips his knife in the air, catches it, and says, "This is called _The Knife Game Song: or, an Ode to Lambert_. It's about a game we play together during late winter nights." Now the whole class is at the edge of their seats. Jaskier will admit that he, too, is intrigued — Geralt never offers this kind of exposition no matter how much he begs, and the whole class is getting this for free. The title is concerning, but he's going to allow it. For now.

Geralt begins by starting a solid tempo with the knife in his desk. Jaskier would be annoyed if it were _his_ desk, but that's in his office. This desk belongs to the University, so, he'll still allow it. 

He's brought out of that line of thought, however, when Geralt starts to sing his song. 

“ _There is an old tradition,  
A game we all can play  
You start by getting liquored up  
And sharpening your blade  
You take a shot of whisky,  
You grab your knife and pray  
And spread apart your fingers,  
And this is what you say_”

Then, as he finishes singing that line, the witcher spreads the fingers of his left hand out on the desk, and begins to stab at the gaps between his fingers, one after the other, keeping up his steady tempo. He is working at a speed that has Jaskier almost squirming. No wonder the fucker has so many scars on his hands, if this is what witchers do for fun.

“ _Oh, I have all my fingers  
The knife goes, 'chop, chop, chop'  
If I miss the spaces in between,  
My fingers will come off  
And if I hit my fingers,  
The blood will soon come out  
But all the same I play this game  
'Cause that's what it's all about!_”

He then flips the knife with his right hand, catches it with his left, and spreads the right in front of him. The show-off is switching to his non-dominant hand. Apparently he plays this game a lot.

“ _Oh, you can’t use a pencil  
You cannot use a pen  
The only way is with a knife  
When danger is your friend  
And some may call it stupid  
And some may call it dumb  
But all the same we play this game  
Because it’s so damn fun!_”

Before Jaskier can even register fully that Geralt has (one) admitted to having fun, (two) used the word fun, and (three) admitted to having fun doing something incredibly stupid, Geralt flips the knife back into his right hand and spreads his left again, once again singing:

“ _Oh, I have all my fingers,  
The knife goes, ‘chop, chop, chop’  
If I miss the spaces in between,  
My fingers will come off  
And if I hit my fingers,  
The blood will soon come out  
But all the same I play this game  
‘Cause that’s what it’s all about!_”

If Jaskier was nervous before, he is absolutely _twitchy_ now, because suddenly Geralt's tempo nearly doubles as his song continues:

“ _Ohhhh, chop, chop, chop, chop, chop, chop, chop,  
I'm picking up the speed,  
And if I hit my fingers,  
Then my hand will start to bleed._”

And he buries the blade deep into the wood of the desk with a _thunk_.

The class is silent, and then breaks out into applause. It's more genuine than the polite clapping given to his peers. Even Jaskier has to admit that that was an impressive show of dexterity, and damn entertaining to boot.

The song itself is repetitive in its tune, and its wording is a bit simple. The rhymes are also not very complex or inspired, but this _is_ an introductory class. The fact that he could sing his song _and_ keep the tempo perfectly with the knife, well, that's just impressive. Fuck, Jaskier hadn't even known that Geralt _could_ sing. He can keep a tune though, which is nice. Honestly, he isn’t sure if Geralt’s voice is so lovely to him because of how he feels about the witcher, or if he actually just has a nice singing voice that he’s been hiding this whole fucking time. He also isn’t sure which one of those would be worse.

While the witcher didn't use a traditional instrument, he did _technically_ meet the requirements of the assignment. Also, it was creative — moreso than his classmates. 

In the end, Jaskier begrudgingly gives the witcher high marks. 

**

He'd really thought he'd learnt from his mistake after the last assignment. This time, Jaskier had challenged his students to write and perform a song a cappella. When one of his students raised her hand and asked if they were allowed props, he said yes, as long as they could justify it as integral to the song.

Honestly, maybe he shouldn't have tried to make them comfortable with Geralt. At this point he thinks that they're asking questions _for_ the witcher so that Jaskier doesn't get suspicious. He wouldn't put it past them — it's something he would definitely have done to one of his professors. And Geralt would absolutely try to annoy or distract him while Jaskier is working, as payback. (Jaskier doesn't agree that he is a distraction, annoyance, nuisance, or any of the other things he's been called over the years, but it's usually Geralt who makes those accusations, so Jaskier can't help but consider it as potential motivation.) While he would normally be thrilled that Geralt is apparently making friends, he thinks he can be forgiven for not being so glad about it just this once.

Students come up, one by one, to perform their songs for the class. There are sea shanties, bawdy songs, lullabies — all standard fare, as far as Jaskier is concerned. Of course, then comes Geralt's turn.

Once again, Geralt has a knife in his hand.

"I believe I said no instruments, this time," Jaskier says, crossing his arms.

"Not an instrument," Geralt says. "It's a prop."

"We'll see."

Geralt then begins to flip the knife. Jaskier has seen him do it in rare moments of idleness, and he's no slouch at knife flipping himself, but he still feels like he's going to be very uneasy by the end of this presentation.

For now, the knife rotates once in the air with each flip, and Geralt catches the handle dexterously each time. 

“ _Oh, I like to flip my knife  
I flip it in the air  
Where will it land?  
Well, I really don't care  
'Cause there's blood on the knife  
There's blood on the blade  
I bet you probably think that I'm afraid_”

As if a witcher would be afraid of getting cuts on his hands. If anyone is feeling anything close to fear right now, it's Jaskier, and only because he doesn’t know where this is going. He does _not_ want to have to do first aid on one of his students in the middle of his class, thank you very much. Geralt does not pause, though, so he forces himself to pay attention.

“ _Well, I flip my knife once,_ ” Geralt sings, as it makes one rotation. “ _I flip my knife twice._ ” Now, the knife makes two rotations each flip, spinning just a bit faster. Still, Geralt keeps catching it by the handle, thank the Gods. From the line about 'blood on the knife, blood on the blade', Jaskier is pretty sure that Geralt is planning on fucking this up — or just fucking with him. Maybe even fucking it up to fuck with him — he certainly wouldn’t put it past the witcher. Either way, he isn't as amused as his students seem to be, the cheeky little fuckers.

“ _I flip it two times  
And it feels kinda nice  
'Cause there's blood on the knife  
There's blood on the blade  
I bet you probably think that I'm afraid_”

The witcher goes back to single flips as he sings, “ _Well I flip my knife once,_ ” and then double flips as he continues, “ _I flip my knife twice_ ”, and then — three. Fucking. Rotations. Jaskier's eyes are following the blade, which — for fuck's sake, Geralt is still catching it with perfect precision, but every few rotations he catches the _bladed end_ and cuts into his fucking palm or fingers. And the entire time, he doesn't fucking stop singing.

“ _I flip it three times  
Now I'm fearin' for my life  
'Cause there's blood on the knife  
There's blood on the blade  
I bet you probably think that I'm afraid_”

No, but Jaskier is. There _is_ blood on the knife, both hilt and blade, because Geralt's palm and fingers are bleeding. It looks like he just dipped his hand in red paint, and the fact that his knife is _slippery with blood_ is probably only making him miss more — but he still doesn't stop. It's as if he doesn't register the pain — and yes, Jaskier is fully aware that Geralt has been far more injured than this and still insisted that he was fine, but he shouldn't just be cutting himself up for the fucking fun of it. 

Jaskier is trying to regulate his breathing, to keep himself from stopping the performance. If he has one rule, it's that performances do not get interrupted in his class. He is, of course, regretting that decision at the moment. The witcher continues to sing, paying attention only to his fucking knife, and he continues to flip it the same number of times as he sings about flipping it.

“ _When I flip my knife once  
Flip my knife twice  
Flip it three times  
Then four, that's right!  
'Cause there's blood on the knife  
There's blood on the blade  
I bet you probably think that I'm insane._”

And Jaskier absolutely thinks that he's insane, yes, now more than ever. As Geralt finishes the song, he catches the knife — by the handle this time, thankfully — and bows. 

Fucking _asshole_.

It's the kind of showy bullshit that Jaskier would absolutely be able to get behind if Geralt wasn't currently dripping blood on the floor of his lecture hall. His students love it, of course. Jaskier tries very hard to remain calm and remember that this fucking idiot's witcher healing will probably have his hands good as new by time the lecture is over. 

Again, the lyrics and tune are very basic. The witcher loses marks for too much repetition, but it's catchy, it's showy, all in all it's pretty good. So, again very begrudgingly, Jaskier gives him high marks for this one.

**

Obviously, knives are now banned from his class. His poor heart can't handle it. He decides that now what they need for their next assignment is something lighthearted, something fun, something upbeat. 

Educational songs seem to be the way to go. A song can make things easier to learn, easier to remember. So, this time, he tells his students that they need to make a song that teaches something. Honestly, he can't be blamed for not seeing how this could have gone wrong.

There are songs about learning to count in Nilfgaardian, about how to build a fence, about quilting. It's all so very boring and mundane and safe, and he is loving it. He doesn't know how he turned into such an old man on the inside, but he isn't going to think about it. When Geralt comes up to do his song, Jaskier wonders what he's going to sing about (admittedly, he's been thinking about it since he came up with the bloody assignment). Is it going to be how to kill a monster? How to care for your horse? How to make a potion?

No, sadly, Jaskier is not so lucky.

Geralt comes up with a piece of rope and what, on his normally taciturn face, Jaskier feels safe to identify as a shit-eating grin. While Jaskier always wants to see Geralt smile, he has to admit that he does not like this one right now.

"What will you be singing about today, Geralt?" he asks as mildly as possible. Each student has to introduce their topic before they perform their song. He isn't going to be surprised, not this time.

"Song for a hangman," the witcher grunts.

"I'm sorry?"

Geralt shrugs. "Not everyone here will end up a bard. Might give up halfway through. Might just want to know how it's done. It’s good to know about other trades, have a backup plan."

Jaskier doesn't say anything to that. He doesn't _want_ to know where this is going, but he's going to allow it. (Why the fuck is he going to allow it?) Taking the rope in hand, Geralt sings.

“ _Let's learn how to tie a noose  
It's easy if you're not obtuse  
All you need is a piece of rope  
And abandon all your hope_”

Well, that sounds fucking horrifying. Is this a song about quitting your education to become a hangman, or about offing yourself? He has to remind himself to give his students (yes, even that one) the benefit of the doubt. Geralt, either not noticing or pretending not to notice his instructor's reaction, continues to sing, and demonstrates each step with the rope he's brought.

“ _You make a loop and the snake goes down  
But changes its mind and turns around  
And climbs back up to the top again  
This is where the fun begins_”

Is it? Is it really? Because Jaskier is not having any fun. Well, that's a lie. This one is actually incredibly fun. No one is getting hurt, and he gets to see Geralt sing and smile and use actual cutesy fucking metaphors. The only reason he's not completely on board with this whole thing is that Geralt is clearly still trying to be an asshole. Even that is kind of endearing — the witcher is having fun. He used the word 'fun'. _Again._ Jaskier can hardly believe it.

“ _The snake spirals down  
And all around  
And at the bottom, what has he found?  
The snake goes into the rabbit's hole  
Then you give the top a pull  
Now it's ready for your use  
This is how you tie a noose._”

He’ll admit, that was creative. No repetition, interesting concept, good use of metaphor. Hating himself for it, just a little, Jaskier gives Geralt the highest grade of all of them.

**

This time, no props. No knives, no nooses, no violent shit. They're well into the semester, at this point, and he is starting to expect more from his students. For their midterm project, he has assigned a ballad. Still, he doesn't trust Geralt not to do something ridiculous, so he asks everyone to pair up and perform a duet. He's hoping that someone will be able to temper Geralt's bullshit. While he knows it's probably wishful thinking, at least this time he is relatively sure that there will be nothing _dangerous_ coming from this one.

Probably.

Besides, he reasons, bards need to be able to perform in groups or pairs. They need to be able to work well with others, because even if they have a solo career — like his — there is always at least a chance that they will have to coordinate with others more than once. They need to be able to work together, to make something with another person. It is a hell of a difficult thing to make a song with someone else, but this is a good group, and he thinks they can do it. Half of the grade will be the song itself, and half will be the individual's performance quality.

As each pair comes up, they play their song. Some go better than others, admittedly. Geralt is sitting next to his partner, a young man named Jakub. When it's their turn to go up, Jakub is holding a lute, and Geralt a small drum. Okay, so far, so good. 

"What's the name of your ballad?" Jaskier asks, quill in hand, ready to make notes on their performance.

"Gospel," Jakub says, throwing a sly smirk at the witcher. Jaskier is only _marginally_ jealous when the witcher smirks back. Really.

"Let's hear it, then," he says.

Jakub plays a chord at the beginning of each line, a guiding tune at first, and he sings: 

_“Sometimes, when I close my eyes  
I see the world from a bigger size  
And I never seem to realise  
What happens when my life is done.”_

Geralt then answers, without missing a beat:

_“What began, and what must end  
I try to find and comprehend  
But in the end, I just pretend  
What happens when I'm gone?  
When my life is... done.”_

Jakub's fingers dance across the strings now, a nice, light little lute solo. After this introduction, he sings, “ _Well, some songs are happy_ ”. Geralt then sings, “ _And some songs are sad._ ” Apparently, they are taking turns. Jakub's next line is, “ _Some songs are really well-rehearsed,_ ” which Geralt answers with, “ _And other songs are... bad._ ” Jakub nods to Geralt and sings, “ _Well, some songs are angry,_ ” and Geralt nods and sings back, _And some songs are sweet_.” It's as if they're having a conversation. Jaskier is going to give them points for stage presence, at the very least. They work well together, and the thought does _not_ make jealousy burn in his gut. As he makes his notes, Jakub sings, “ _Some songs are made to help you wake up in the morning,_ ” and Geralt turns his attention to the class — to Jaskier, specifically — and sings, “ _Well here's a little song to help you go back to sleep..._ ”

And now, Gods help him, they're _harmonising_. It sounds like Jakub is taking the higher parts, and Geralt the lower, which makes sense at least. It's good that they each picked someone with a complementary vocal range to their own.

“ _There aren't any Gods, and when you die, you're just dead  
And Destiny's a fairytale to put you to bed  
Sometimes, I think about the chance that I'm wrong  
But then I close my eyes and just remember this song  
I said, there aren't any Gods, and when you die, you're just dead  
And destiny's a fairytale to put you to bed  
There ain't nobody watching us 'cause nobody cares  
And in the end we're living all alone._”

For fuck's sake. Okay, they're losing points because this is absolutely the kind of thing that would get them kicked out of probably any place they tried to perform it. They go back to singing one line at a time to each other, seemingly entirely indifferent to the scattered whispers that have broken out across the lecture hall. 

“ _If I could live forever,_ ” Jakub sings, “ _I'd do it if I could._ ” 

Geralt adds, “ _Leave it all behind, everything that I've done,_ ” which his partner answers with a mournful, “ _It's just as bad as if it's never begun._ ”

“ _And if I were a believer,_ ” Geralt sings (Jaskier is surprised that he can hit those higher notes, actually — good for him. Points added for that, thank you), “ _And Lords know, I've tried_.” 

Jakub adds, “ _Well, I could be at peace when I close my eyes,_ ” and together they sing, “ _And I can go to heaven on the day that I die..._ ” And now they are reiterating that there are no Gods and there is no afterlife. Apparently that bit is the chorus. _Lovely_.

They sing back and forth again, in a fashion — Jakub sings, “ _Love don't matter, money don't matter, and life don't matter_ ” and Geralt adds “ _'Cause you die in the end_ ” after each one of them. Together, they sing with an impressive crescendo, “ _But it's really never over, no it's really never over_ ” and, one final time, they sing their chorus.

That song was... something. It was definitely something. There's no way they could get away with performing that anywhere, but he has to admit that it was also very catchy and creative as fuck. Their voices work well together, the both of them work well together. He tries very hard to pretend that Geralt is just another student so he doesn't get angry and jealous about that last part. Why can't Geralt sing with _him_? Why can't he look at _Jaskier_ like that? Why can't _they_ compose an inflammatory song together? 

Ugh. Focus.

They get an average grade. If the song weren't as good as it was, he'd have failed them. Still, they've performed it excellently, they've written it excellently, and he can't say that he wouldn't pull that kind of shit when he was younger (Geralt is way older than him, but again, Jaskier is pretending he is someone else for the sake of grading this nightmare).

**

"You wanted to see me, professor?" Geralt asks, walking into his office.

"Close the door," Jaskier says tiredly, "and don't fucking call me _professor_."

Geralt closes the door, and sits on the other side of the desk when Jaskier gestures to it. "What is it?" he asks.

Jaskier sighs. "Geralt, why are you here?"

"To learn—"

"No," the bard snaps, "that's not what I fucking mean. Why did you decide to learn this? It isn't going to do you any good, please stop trying to bullshit me. Are you just trying to fuck up my lectures?"

The witcher is frowning deeply, even for him. "I've been getting high marks," he says slowly. "Why do you think I'm trying to fuck up your lectures?"

Jaskier wants to rip his own fucking hair out. "You're being intentionally disruptive! You come here and play with knives and write about dying and make fucking _puppy dog eyes_ at _Jakub_ —"

"I didn't make puppy dog eyes at Jakub," Geralt says, his frown now one of confusion. 

"You sang with him!"

"You assigned it," points out the witcher. Which, well. It's a fair point, yes, but he doesn't have to _say it_!

"If I didn't know better, I'd say you're trying to give me an aneurysm so you can find a new bard to travel with," Jaskier snaps, crossing his arms. Yes, he's being petty and childish, but he isn't going to acknowledge that right now, thank you.

"That's ridiculous," Geralt snaps back. "I would never want to travel with another bard."

"Then what, are you trying to learn my trade so you don't need me anymore?" 

"You're impossible!" growls the witcher.

"Why. Are. You. Here?"

"I missed you!"

...What? "What?"

Geralt isn't looking at him now, and if looks could kill, he's pretty sure the bookshelf that Geralt is currently glaring at would be on fire.

"I wanted to see what you do in the winter. I'm... interested. I wanted to see you in your element. I wanted to see you doing what you love because you're—"

Silence. "I'm what?" Jaskier asks, softly now, when Geralt doesn't finish his thought.

"Important," Geralt grunts. "To me."

"Oh."

"Hmm."

They're both silent — which, to be fair, is not normal for them. Usually Jaskier happily (or nervously, or angrily) fills any silence, but this... he doesn't know how to break this one. 

"And the... stunts?" Jaskier asks, still speaking softly. "The knife tricks and the doom-and-gloom songs?"

The witcher shrugs, trying to act nonchalant somehow (it isn't working). "Wanted to do my best," he says. "They say write about what you know. Might have wanted to get back at you for the last few decades, too. And I... wanted your attention."

"Oh, darling," Jaskier says with a half-hysterical little laugh because this _cannot_ be happening right now. "You silly witcher -- you always have my attention."

Jaskier stands up and walks around his desk, until he is in front of his witcher. He bends at the waist until they are nearly nose to nose, and Geralt makes no move to get away. "Tell me if I'm reading this wrong?" the bard says, a little nervously.

"I don't think you are," offers the witcher.

And then they're kissing. It's soft, chaste, but so filled with emotion and pent-up longing that it should get _several_ ballads all to itself. The angle is a little awkward, but Geralt's hand is on the back of his neck, and his own hands are twined in long, white hair. Jaskier never wants to move from this spot, never wants to leave this moment.

Alas, everything must end. They pull apart, and Jaskier bites his own lower lip, suddenly unsure. 

"You know," Geralt says, for once being the one to break the silence, "I don't think kissing students is considered ethical."

All uncertainty flies away at that joke, and Jaskier laughs even as he's swatting the other man's shoulder. "It won't affect your grade," he warns. 

The witcher smirks and says, as he did on the first day of class, "I'd be offended if it did."


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted to explore the events of the fic from Geralt's POV, and it ended up being a lot longer than I thought it would but also I had a lot of fun so I hope you do too!

Geralt isn’t really sure that this is a good idea. Usually, when something might be a bad idea, and he can avoid it, he does. For some reason, though, he’s in a gambling mood. So, when Jaskier starts making noise about heading to Oxenfurt a little earlier than usual, Geralt offers to come along with him. 

He’s not going to Kaer Morhen this winter. He’d already sent word — didn’t need to, but he knows how shitty it feels not knowing if his brothers are alive, and he doesn’t want any of them to feel that way because of him. His writing is short, like his speech. He simply tells them that he won’t be there for the winter, that he has business, that he hopes to run across them on the Path and if not he will see them next winter. 

Of course, there’s no way of knowing if that’s true. Any of them could be cut down in any moment, and they all know it. Still, he is confident in the skills of his brothers and himself, and so he simply acts as though he is more sure than he actually is that he will reunite with them as he does most every year.

Sending the letter, for him, was a way of pushing himself to do this. If he goes to Kaer Morhen now, if he backs out, then he’ll have to answer questions that will, no matter what, end up with him being made fun of for the next fucking century at least. Of course, if they find out what he’s doing, that will happen anyway, but this way he has something to gain.

He’s desperately trying not to think about it, to just think about getting to Oxenfurt and dealing with it later. Jaskier keeps trying to ascertain what, exactly, he’s going to be doing for the winter, but Geralt refuses to answer. After all, he’s sure the bard will find out one way or another.

See, the thing is, he’s enrolled in one of Jaskier’s introductory classes. 

Yes, it is absolutely as stupid as it sounds and he knows that. He’s a witcher, not a minstrel. He has no need to know how to read or write or play music, doesn’t need to know about metre and rhyme or what a stanza is.

It’s just that… well, it’s important to Jaskier. It’s his life. The bard has been following Geralt on the Path for what, forty years now? Longer? Certainly longer than any human could, let alone would. Geralt is pretty sure that at this point Jaskier knows almost as much about what it is to be a witcher as an actual fucking witcher. He’s patched Geralt’s wounds numerous times, knows what all of his potions look like _and_ do — fuck, he probably knows how to make them as well. How many times has Geralt thought that he was out of Kiss or Swallow, thought _I guess this is it_ , only to have a bottle pressed to his lips by the bard just in time to save him?

Jaskier knows more about monsters than he lets on, as well — he might call a basilisk a _chicken-lizard_ or say _drownies_ instead of drowners from time to time, but at this point the bard’s ability to piece together a startlingly accurate picture of Geralt’s fights just by the few words the witcher offers him is uncanny. Jaskier knows how to read the tracks left by different creatures, knows how to harvest cockatrice feathers, knows the difference between a ghoul and an alghoul. 

The point is that Jaskier has intimate knowledge of Geralt’s profession and Geralt, well, he has very little idea of the bard’s. 

Sure, there are things that he picks up by listening to him as he composes. As much as he’ll never admit it, he _does_ listen. The things that Jaskier mutters to himself as he’s scribbling in his songbook or journal, the whispered curses as he tries to decide on the right chord progression for this piece or that — it’s all very informative. Even if he didn’t want to, Geralt would have some basic knowledge of the basics of musical composition and poetry. 

It’s not enough, though. Part of the problem is that he _won’t_ admit that he’s listening, that he’s _been_ listening. There are several reasons — if he comes out and says it, then Jaskier won’t really believe it, or it will stroke his ego in all the wrong ways; he also doesn’t want Jaskier to become self-conscious and not allow Geralt to hear his creative process anymore. He knows how paranoid the bard is about others hearing his compositions before they’re finished — something to do with a Valdo Marx, which explains why Jaskier had wanted the djinn to kill him all those years ago.

He could never be a bard just as Jaskier could never be a witcher, but he wants to be able to help Jaskier as the bard helps him. He wants to be able to offer insight when Jaskier asks — to be confident in answering in more than a hum when his bard is trying to decide if this piece should be in a minor key, or if that one is better with or without accompaniment, or whatever else he wants an opinion on. Geralt wants to be that opinion. He wants to do more for Jaskier, to _be_ more for Jaskier.

Feelings are not his strong suit, and anyone who’s ever met him knows it. He’s trying, though. The fact of the matter is that he has feelings for Jaskier — he’s in love with him, actually, which at first was absurd, and then horrifying, and then inconvenient, and now it just _is_. Loving Jaskier is just a part of his life now; like his silver sword, it’s just another mark of who he is. 

Coming to terms with it was not easy, but he had. It’s what caused him to ask for Yen’s help in this scheme of his, to ask her to pay for him to take a music class for the winter. He knows that she is going to be making fun of him for the rest of his fucking life, but Jaskier is worth that. Jaskier is worth the enormous amount of pride he’d had to swallow to get to this point.

When they get to the city, they part ways. Jaskier still doesn’t know that Geralt is going to be in his class in a few weeks. Yennefer has arranged a place for him to stay and he tries very hard not to think about how she got it in the first place. No use looking a gift horse in the mouth, after all.

**

The first day of class is every bit as awkward as he’d imagined. The desks are absolutely miniscule, not made for the bulk of a witcher. He probably looks like an absolute fool crowded into this little chair behind his little desk, and even his quill looks small in his hand. 

His classmates — for fuck’s sake, he’s really doing this, he has _classmates_ — are all young and obviously afraid of him. The bitter scent of fear is almost overwhelming. The ones closest to him have moved their desks as far from his as possible, only serving to make him stand out more. He fucking hates this already, and the professor hasn’t even come in yet.

Ah, but think of the devil, and the devil shall appear. Jaskier strolls in, and Geralt’s normally steady heartbeat stutters in his chest. Seeing his bard looking so professional is weird, and admittedly kind of hot, only he is definitely not fucking admitting that, okay? 

Jaskier writes his name and the name of his class on the chalkboard at the front of the lecture hall, and as he does he introduces himself and his class. He turns to take roll and his eyes widen, his face the perfect picture of surprise. “Geralt!?” he practically squawks.

“Present,” says the witcher. He can’t keep the smirk off of his face. Just the look on Jaskier’s face, how thrown off he already is just from Geralt _being there_ , is immensely satisfying. It almost makes this worth it already.

Quickly enough, the bard recovers, clears his throat, and finishes actually taking roll. He pauses again as he looks over the sheet with his students’ names on it — of course he hadn’t actually looked before class, or he would have known that Geralt was going to be here. Still, when he pauses, Geralt knows that it’s at his name, that the bard probably didn’t expect that Geralt was actually supposed to be here.

The rest of the lecture period is spent outlining what the class will be like, the syllabus, a vague schedule for the semester, his rules and expectations, and a bit about himself — his qualifications, mostly, which are of course extensive. 

At the end of the lecture, everyone but the two of them rushes out of the room. He gets his own things together more slowly, not really having anywhere else to be, and heads towards the door, when Jaskier gets his attention.

“Geralt.” Well, he doesn’t sound pleased.

“Yes, professor?” He can’t help but throw Jaskier’s title in his face. He feels like being a little shit, like turning the tables on the bard for once. For this season, Jaskier is the professional, and Geralt is the headache.

(Jaskier hasn’t really been a headache for a long time, but he had been, once upon a time. Geralt feels entitled to a little friendly payback.)

“What are you doing here?” asks the bard.

Well, that should be obvious, shouldn’t it? He’d been sitting in the class, his name is on the list of students. With one eyebrow raising, Geralt replies, "Learning, I hope — if the professor can get his shit together, that is."

Jaskier’s irritation is very satisfying. Clearly, he is not as amused as Geralt is. "I _mean_ , why have you enrolled in my class?"

The witcher will admit that he had been expecting that question — anticipating it, even — though he’d honestly hoped that he wouldn’t be asked. Still, he’s come up with an answer in advance. With a half-shrug that he hopes portrays a kind of nonchalance that he isn’t actually feeling, he answers. “It's important to learn new skills," he says. "At Kaer Morhen, I'd be learning the same things I already know. I can train on my own just fine anywhere."

He can tell that Jaskier doesn’t believe him, but for once, luck seems to actually be on his side. The bard drops it and instead says, “I won’t go easy on you just because we’re close.”

Well, _obviously_. Geralt knows that Jaskier values integrity above almost everything else, underneath the persona he tries to present to the world. His reputation is immensely important to him, and he wouldn’t risk his academic integrity or his reputation as a professor just to give his friend an easy grade. Instead of saying all that, though, Geralt simply says, “I’d be offended if you did.”

**

The next two days go about the same as the first. He ignores his classmates, who pay far too much attention to him. He studiously takes notes on everything Jaskier is saying, and even though it’s basic shit, a mild introduction to his world, Geralt is intent on learning everything that he possibly can, on trying, on showing that he _cares_. He finds himself staying after class to ask Jaskier questions about the lecture, even as the others scurry away from the two of them. 

Well, he isn’t surprised, mostly. He knows how people see witchers, has known that longer than he’s known Jaskier. He just supposes that at least a part of him had assumed that the other students would be more interested in Jaskier’s lessons than they were afraid of Geralt.

On the fourth day of class, Jaskier strides into the room, and Geralt immediately knows that something is different. His gait is more direct, less of the swishy, willowy movement he usually employs, and more of a march. He exudes an air of authority that has Geralt unconsciously sitting up a little straighter in his seat.

And then, rather than lecturing them on musical theory, he begins lecturing them on survival. 

Geralt can barely hear Jaskier over the rush of blood in his ears, the sound of his own heart thudding against his chest. Of course, he knows how to survive, but as a witcher. He finds that he’s never considered how Jaskier keeps himself safe when he isn’t around, and he knows that it’s because he hadn’t wanted to. Jaskier is clumsy and careless and trusting — outwardly, that is. 

The witcher wants to kick himself. He has seen how capable Jaskier can be. He’d allowed himself to believe yet another of the many masks the bard hides behind. Geralt feels like an absolute fool. 

While he can rely on his enhanced senses to tell when people are bullshitting him, to suss out another’s intentions, Jaskier uses his own skill set. He apparently views interactions with others through an entirely different lens, and while Geralt knew that on a theoretical level, it’s an entirely different thing to be able to see it himself. Jaskier is a master of words, so of course he knows when people are trying to use his own tricks against him.

Fuck, if he wasn’t absolutely smitten before, now he doesn’t stand a fucking chance.

And then Jaskier is saying his name in that authoritative tone and he has to work very hard to keep himself from reacting in the ways his body clearly wants him to. At the professor’s behest, he makes his way to the front of the room, and Jaskier starts speaking again to the rest of the class.

"Now,” he says, “I have been following this man around for decades. If he hasn't killed _me_ yet, he won't touch any of you."

Geralt hadn’t known that this was where Jaskier was going with this lecture, but now that he does he finds he doesn’t really know what to do. “He can be very annoying,” he agrees, falling back into the comfort of their usual back and forth. 

A few of his classmates laugh, and Jaskier agrees with him amicably before telling the other students to stop being such fucking babies — although, in his own, less direct way. (It’s strikingly direct for Jaskier, though, and Geralt finds he very much likes this part of his friend.)

Jaskier’s hand is on his shoulder. He knows that it’s a friendly gesture, that it’s meant to show that he’s harmless, but he finds that the casual touch from Jaskier in front of so many people has his thoughts grinding to a halt. 

And then, thankfully, he is let loose, asked to return to his seat. When he sits, one of the others asks if he is Jaskier’s witcher. 

Gods, does he want to be.

The tension lifts from the room easily, in the way only Jaskier can cause. It’s easier, lighter; Jaskier jokes and students laugh, asks questions and they answer. After class a number of his classmates stop to talk to their teacher and he forces down the very irrational jealousy that tries to rise up within him. Jaskier is their teacher, of course they’re going to talk to him. Geralt is invading this part of his life, he can’t have a monopoly on Jaskier’s time.

Before he can even start packing up his things, he finds himself loosely encircled by three bards-to-be. He grits his teeth; he needs to play nice, not fuck up the hard work Jaskier’s just done to make them stop being afraid of him. 

It doesn’t mean he has to like it.

“You’re the White Wolf?” one of them asks, and he nods. She smiles brightly — fuck, are all bards so cheery? “I’m Kaja.” 

“Maja,” the other girl says. They’re twins, he notices.

“Jakub,” says the final member of their little group.

“Geralt,” he grunts. 

He takes stock of the three bardlings before him. Maja and Kaja are blonde, waifish girls with green eyes and a smattering of freckles across their cheeks and noses. Their hair is curly, Maja’s up in a bun and Kaja’s hanging loose around her chin. Jakub is a lean boy with brown eyes and black hair. He has a white scar over his left eyebrow that sticks out against his dark skin, though it is not unattractive. 

Kaja leans her hip against his desk. “So,” she says; apparently, she is the leader of their little gang. “Any reason a witcher is taking a music class?”

Geralt shrugs, and mutters, “Just here to learn something new.” 

“You can’t learn from him the rest of the year, when you’re together?” Maja asks dubiously. “I thought there was a _reason_ he was called ‘The White Wolf’s Bard’.”

Fucking bards. 

“Just because we’re _friends_ ,” he growls, “doesn’t mean it’s going to affect my grade.” 

They look at him like he’s some kind of idiot.

“Trust me,” Kaja says, “nobody is thinking that. Literally nobody cares about your grade or how you get it. What’s really interesting is your relationship with our instructor.”

“Y’see,” Maja adds, studying her nails with an air of nonchalance, “the professor has a lot of songs. Songs about adventure and love, about _heroics_ and _heartbreak_.”

“Lots of songs about the White Wolf,” Kaja agrees. It’s like Geralt isn’t even part of the conversation — that is, until two pairs of green eyes lock directly onto him. Then it’s like he’s the only thing in the room. If these girls don’t make it as bards, they’ll do great as interrogators.

“Just wanted to learn about music,” he reiterates tersely. Just because he has to play nice, doesn’t mean he has to be overly friendly. He is still a witcher, after all. It took decades for him to call Jaskier his friend, why do these three think they can wear him down in a day?

“Hmm,” says Jakub, speaking up for the first time since their introduction. It sounds very suspiciously like his own disbelieving hum, and Geralt narrows his eyes against the younger man.

Honestly, he should have predicted that not working. When has he ever had any luck getting bards to go away when he wanted them to? 

“You’ve known each other an awfully long time,” says Maja.

“Longer than we’ve been _alive_ ,” Kaja agrees.

“Witchers live a long time,” he says. Why the fuck is he still talking? They’re just going to take it as encouragement.

“So do professors, I guess,” shrugs Jakub.

Ah. Of course they’d notice. Jaskier doesn’t look like he can be older than his thirties, and Geralt suspects that he only looks _that_ old because of the facial hair he grows in the winter. (It’s _very_ fetching on him, by the way.) 

“Hmm,” he answers, unable to think of a better response.

“Imagine, sister dear, pining after someone for a _lifetime_ ,” Maja croons mournfully.

“A desperate, unrequited love,” Kaja sighs, nodding.

“Spending decades with someone, watching them fall into others’ beds, wishing desperately that you could be—”

“Enough,” Geralt growls. 

“Oh?” Kaja asks, entirely unperturbed. “Why, I’d all but forgotten you were there. Have we struck a nerve?”

“You have no right to presume how I feel about Jaskier,” he says through clenched teeth.

The twins laugh, heedless of the way he narrows his eyes at the display. 

“Oh, we weren’t talking about _you_ ,” says Maja.

“We were talking about the _professor_ ,” Kaja agrees.

“Still,” says Maja with a grin that can only be described as feral, “that sounds like a confession, doesn’t it?”

“You know, I think you’re right,” answers Kaja.

Fucking. Bards.

“What do you want?” he growls.

“For starters, we wouldn’t mind finding out what you’re _really_ taking this class for,” Jakub says. He is the most quiet of the three, but that does not make him the least dangerous. 

“You breathe a word of this to him,” Geralt begins, but before he can really figure out how to even end his threat, Jakub waves his hand dismissively and speaks over him.

“Oh, we’d never,” he says. “Everyone’s heard the stories. Jaskier’s the best professor this university’s got. We’re all fans, the three of us. He should get his happy ending, instead of writing them for others.”

Geralt doesn’t entirely trust them, still, but he at least agrees with that sentiment.

Only, wait. “What’s that got to do with me?”

Kaja rolls her eyes. “Gods, you _are_ dense,” she says.

“No wonder our dear teacher’s still single,” her sister agrees.

“For fuck’s sake, speak plainly,” Geralt growls (he is _not_ pleading). 

“We want to help you two get together,” Jakub says.

Geralt squints at him. “Why?”

“Call it professional interest,” he answers.

“The _songs_ we could write,” Kaja breathes dreamily. 

“The bragging rights, as well,” Maja adds.

“And, well, we _are_ fans,” Jakub admits, “and he _does_ deserve his own love song, doesn’t he?”

“Hmm.”

Eventually, they do leave him alone. It’s likely that they have other classes to go to, unlike Geralt — he doesn’t have any bardic aspirations, so he’d only enrolled in the one, after all. When everyone else has left and it’s just him and Jaskier, he makes his way up to the front of the class, to his friend.

“Yes, dear?” hums the bard, not looking up from the papers he’s straightening. 

Geralt suddenly doesn’t know what to say — not that he ever does, really — so he falls back to what’s easy and makes a snide comment. “Didn’t know you knew how to be careful.”

“Well, I don't always have a big, scary wolf by my side,” Jaskier answers pleasantly. And really, Geralt knew that, the same way he’d known that they see the world in vastly different ways — that is to say, he’d been aware of it in theory, but is now being faced with it. Jaskier can survive on his own. He doesn’t need Geralt. 

It’s a relief — not in the way it would have been when they’d first met, when he’d stubbornly insisted that he didn’t want to be needed. He’d meant it on an emotional level, back then. He didn’t want to let anyone down, to put anyone in danger. He couldn’t handle another Renfri.

No, the thing is, Jaskier doesn’t need Geralt’s protection. He can keep himself safe. Geralt doesn’t need to worry about him. And, well, it also soothes that voice in the back of his head that worries that Jaskier only keeps him around because he’s useful. Jaskier is famous now, doesn’t need to follow Geralt to write his songs; and he can protect himself, has admittedly impressive survival skills, so doesn’t need Geralt’s protection. Geralt can finally start to entertain the possibility that Jaskier stays with him because he just _wants_ to, because he _likes_ Geralt’s company.

Years ago, he’d never have believed anyone could, unless they were a witcher. Jaskier, though, has defied each and every expectation, has shifted Geralt’s world view until it was on its fucking head. Geralt has friends, has a _daughter_ , has someone he _loves_ to the point that he’s taking a fucking university class just so he can deserve to be a part of that person’s life. For the first time, he truly feels like a _person_ , and it’s all because of Jaskier.

So, yes, maybe his classmates had a point. Of course Jaskier deserves a happy ending, and he finds that he desperately wants to be the one to provide it. He decides that he’s going to see if they’re still willing to help.

**

Their trio becomes a quartet. Geralt wants to say he fought tooth and nail against being assimilated into the group, but it would be a lie. Some decades ago he just… stopped fighting against bards who’d decided to take an interest in him. Well, one bard, but still. As a result, he is woefully unprepared for this new type of peer pressure.

It helps to have a study group, at least. They can help him understand the concepts that he can’t quite grasp on his own, especially now that the other students are finally talking to Jaskier.

When their first assignment comes, he admits that he’s worried. Yes, he’s just a student, but he wants to impress Jaskier. He wants Jaskier’s attention. He wants to stand out.

He feels like a fucking teenager. 

They want stories about witchers’ exploits, just like every fucking bard he’s ever met. He isn’t good at telling stories, that’s the problem with this fucking assignment. The details that he considers important are apparently not good for telling a story, and the rest are insignificant to him so he doesn’t bother to remember them. How is he supposed to make _I stabbed it in its throat and it died_ into more than it is?

Jaskier can, of course. Usually Geralt will give the details he thinks are important, and then try to remember details that Jaskier might find useful — the sun was high in the sky, the trees were dense, the cave dripped with moisture and smelled like rotting flesh. And usually, even the details he tries to remember for Jaskier aren’t useful to the other man, but somehow he can spin a tale out of Geralt’s account all the same.

So, they glean what information they can from him, and they’ll probably make up the rest, if he knows anything about bards. The problem for him is that he can’t do that. Of course, they have a solution for this problem.

In the end the idea is to make a song about things that he does with other witchers. Usually at this time of year he is at Kaer Morhen catching up with his brothers. They’d train or hunt or work on the keep until the snow gets too high, and spend late nights drinking White Gull and making increasingly poor decisions regarding weaponry until they pass the fuck out or Vesemir catches them and puts a stop to whatever stupid shit they were doing. 

When pressed further on the poor decisions with alcohol and armaments, he explains one of the games that Lambert came up with. _The Knife Game_ or _Five Finger Fillet_ , depending on who you ask. Sometimes, when he needs to calm his thoughts but can’t make himself meditate, he’ll play. It’s grounding, and it’s not like he doesn’t know his way around a fucking knife. He demonstrates for the group, sinking the knife into the table between his fingers again and again as he continues to talk to them with the same ease he would without the knife plunging into the wood between his spread fingers.

The three of them help him come up with a song based on the game. It is, after all, technically about a witcher’s exploits. They play it every year. 

He doesn’t really _do_ instruments. He’s tried. They’ve given him plenty of their own instruments, and some that he’s pretty sure were gotten by less than honest means, but he just doesn’t have the skill or training necessary. He can keep a beat, but that’s all he can really claim.

Well. Maja had asked if percussion instruments were allowed. She can play several instruments, but her personal preference is the drum. And, since the knife technically keeps the beat in his song, they figure he can probably justify it as a percussion instrument.

When he performs for the class, he does not allow himself to become distracted by Jaskier’s heartbeat, by the scent of anxiety and fucking _trepidation_ that pours off of his bard, his _professor_. Of course, Geralt knows that the song is basic at best, by Jaskier’s standards, but this _is_ an introductory class. To his immense pleasure, he receives high marks on this assignment.

**

The next assignment comes around, and the three that he currently refuses to consider his friends are grilling him on his interests and skills. When asked why they’d need to know that, they’d simply answered that it’s important to ‘stick with what you know’. He supposes that makes sense. It doesn’t mean he has to like it, though.

Obviously, his skills mostly involve blades, and his interests as well. He likes Gwent, and horses — specifically _his_ horse, but all horses are wonderful creatures. They’re probably the only creatures that aren’t afraid of him, bards notwithstanding. 

Still, the point is that he doesn’t have many skills or interests that don’t involve violence. While this assignment is a cappella (which he has learned years ago means without accompaniment, voices only), at least he doesn’t have to worry about instrumentals.

The inspiration comes from Kaja, in the end. He is as close to anxious as a witcher can get, and he absently starts flipping his knife to keep his hands occupied, to give his restless body the stimulation it craves so that his mind can focus.

Kaja sees him flip his knife and remarks that it’s an interesting skill. She adds that since he’s doing it so absentmindedly, it probably won’t be a distraction if he does it when he performs. She asks the professor if props are allowed the next day and he agrees.

Good.

He likes to flip his knife. Admittedly, ( and obviously,) Geralt is not a poet, and the words he comes up with are not the most inspired, but he is doing his best and the three bards who have (for some unfathomable reason) taken him under their wing give it the go-ahead with minimal editing, so he decides that he’s probably fine.

He gets good marks on this assignment as well, which is a point of pride for him. Yes, he’s had help, but he is doing a good job, he thinks. He is showing Jaskier that he can be part of his life, can be in _this_ part of his life. 

Maybe this wasn’t such a bad idea after all.

**

When Jaskier bans knives from their classroom, he isn’t really surprised. After all, he had bled on the floor just a tad during the last presentation. It’s just that, well, he’d been out of his comfort zone. He’d been a bit distracted. If a witcher gets distracted, a witcher gets dead, but if a _bard_ gets distracted, the bard just ends up with a bad performance, so he thinks that in this case it’s okay. After all, in this classroom he is a student, not a witcher.

Okay, it’s pure waffle and he knows it. Still, no knives, which means a drastic reduction to his potential material. 

Jaskier assigns educational songs next. Well, he knows how to tie knots. He can work with that. Admittedly, in this instance he isn’t trying to impress his friend, he’s mostly trying to be an asshole. 

It works.

**

Apparently Jaskier no longer trusts him.

As a person, he’s sure that Jaskier still trusts him the same. As a student, though? Geralt will admit that he’s letting out a lot of the teenage rebellion he would have been flogged for more than a century ago. That is to say, he’s being a colossal asshole, and it is a lot of fun.

The point is that they’re supposed to pair off for their midterm project. Maja and Kaja form a group, because of course they do. Most of the twins he’s met in his life try so hard to be as different from the other as possible, but these two seem to relish in their similarities. Well, to each their own.

Jakub ends up being his partner, which works fine for him. Jakub — Kuba to his closest friends, one of which is apparently, somehow, Geralt — is quieter than the other two. When he does speak, it is with purpose. Geralt likes him, sort of (but maybe it’s because it’s refreshing not having to be around someone who won’t shut the fuck up, a true rarity in a class full of bards). 

The point is that Kuba is an alright sort, and their voices work well together. Also, Kuba apparently feels the same way about religion as Geralt does — that is to say, he thinks it’s a waste of time. 

That ends up being the point of their duet. Fuck Gods, fuck Destiny. Let’s piss off as many people as possible.

See, the thing is, Jaskier has told him that controversy can do wonders for a bard’s career. There is a point at which no publicity is bad publicity, apparently; when what’s important is that people learn your name, that they are talking about you, not what they are saying. Geralt, admittedly, isn’t sure if that was just an excuse he’d used when he was caught in a truly scandalous affair and some lordling had put a bounty on his head, or if it’s actually true. It was a little over thirty years ago, he thinks, but he wants to show that he’d listened, that he’d remembered the things that Jaskier told him. 

And Kuba, well. He’s just an asshole.

He’s the fun kind of asshole that Geralt thinks, in another life, he could really get along with. (Of course, he is getting along with him _now_ , but he is currently refusing to admit that.) He’s a teenage boy, and Geralt is, for the first time in his life, allowed to act like one, which makes him also kind of a teenage boy. They are a terrible influence on each other, and it is wonderful. It reminds him of the trouble he and Eskel used to get into before the Trials, only without the beatings. 

It’s Kuba’s idea to lightly flirt with each other during their presentation. He claims that it will make Jaskier jealous, and when Geralt asks why the fuck he would want that, Kuba just shakes his head. “If he’s jealous, that means he wants you,” he explains, “and it will make him think about it. Trust me, you’ve just got to drive him crazy.”

And maybe it’s not a great idea to take romantic advice from a teenage boy, but he hasn’t done a very great job on his own up to this point, and bards are supposed to be good at this sort of thing. 

Their song ends up very good. Jaskier actually writes “ _If this wasn’t so good, I’d have failed you,_ ” on their grade sheet, which is very high praise. He and Kuba share a high five, which is probably a very comical sight — a young bard-to-be and a large, white-haired witcher slapping their hands together whilst sitting in their desks in the middle of a lecture hall — and he’d only learned what a high five _is_ very recently, but he finds he doesn’t care. It’s an accomplishment, and it’s one worth celebrating.

Also, the glare that Jaskier sends their way when he spies the casual contact makes something in Geralt’s brain feel very smug.

**

“You wanted to see me, professor?” Geralt asks as he enters Jaskier’s office. Honestly, he’s assuming he’s in trouble, and being in trouble usually means some sort of pain, in his experience. Best to be respectful just in case, even if it is just Jaskier.

Jaskier looks and sounds fucking _exhausted_. “Close the door, and don’t fucking call me _professor._ ”

Geralt does, and when beckoned to sit in the chair in front of Jaskier’s desk, he does that as well. Usually Jaskier doesn’t hesitate to talk his ear off, so it puts him sort of on edge to just be _looked at_ like that. “What is it?” he asks, for once desperate for the bard to just talk to him.

“Geralt,” he asks with a tired sigh, “why are you here?”

Hadn’t they had this conversation at the beginning of the semester? “To learn—” he starts, but Jaskier cuts him off.

“No, that's not what I fucking mean,” he snaps. “Why did you decide to learn this? It isn't going to do you any good, please stop trying to bullshit me. Are you just trying to fuck up my lectures?"

Wait, what? He’s been doing his best! Slowly, unsure, he asks, "I've been getting high marks. Why do you think I'm trying to fuck up your lectures?"

Apparently, that was the wrong answer. "You're being intentionally disruptive! You come here and play with knives and write about dying and make fucking _puppy dog eyes_ at _Jakub_ —"

Now it’s Geralt’s turn to interrupt. “I didn’t make puppy dog eyes at Jakub,” he rumbles. He supposes that yes, they’d play-flirted during their duet, but he hadn’t come here to seduce a _child_. (Jaskier may act like a child, but he does not count, thank you.) And while Geralt knows that making Jaskier jealous was sort of the point, it still feels weird and wrong to be accused of that sort of thing.

“You sang with him!” Jaskier accuses, apparently unwilling to let this go.

Geralt raises one astonished eyebrow and says, “You assigned it.” Again, it seems like he has chosen the wrong answer, as Jaskier only gets more visibly irritated. 

The bard crosses his arms and, rather churlishly, accuses, "If I didn't know better, I'd say you're trying to give me an aneurysm so you can find a new bard to travel with.”

Is he fucking serious? There is no one in the world that he trusts like Jaskier, no bard he can tolerate for as long. Kuba and Kaja and Maja are fun to hang around with on occasion, but if he had to make camp with them he’d probably run himself through with both of his own swords. 

So, Geralt feels like it would be prudent to point this out. "That's ridiculous. I would never want to travel with another bard."

"Then what, are you trying to learn my trade so you don't need me anymore?" 

Now, his patience wears very thin, and he growls out, "You're impossible!" 

Jaskier, though, only presses on. "Why. Are. You. Here?"

"I missed you!"

Well. Shit. He hadn’t wanted to admit it, and now he’s embarrassed. At least it seems to have stunned Jaskier into blessed silence. Of course, the silence is disconcerting, in a way that silence only can be when Jaskier is involved. Maybe this class has had too much of an influence on him, because now _he_ feels compelled to fill the sudden quiet, to explain himself. 

"I wanted to see what you do in the winter. I'm... interested. I wanted to see you in your element. I wanted to see you doing what you love because you're—" 

He can’t finish that thought. It’s too much. Just because a group of teenagers think that Jaskier might feel the same way, it doesn’t mean that he wants to risk it like this. He can’t risk their friendship over his own stupid feelings, feelings that most would argue he shouldn’t even _have_. 

Of course, Jaskier won’t let him off that easily. Now that the words are out there, he’s going to have to finish his thought. When Geralt doesn’t speak, Jaskier asks in a gentle voice, "I'm what?"

Fuck. Geralt can’t even look at him right now, he can’t see the _rejection_ if it’s there, the pity. Jaskier is a good man, but that means he’ll try to let Geralt down easy, and that’s only going to hurt more than a blunt, outright ‘no’. Still, he answers, if only because he’s already made this bed and now he has to man up and lie in it.

“Important. To me.” 

“Oh.”

“Hmm.”

It seems neither of them knows what to say. Geralt is very much done with talking, now. He doesn’t want to make this worse. And Jaskier, for once, doesn’t seem to have an answer for that. 

That is, until he does. “And the… stunts? he knife tricks and the doom-and-gloom songs?" His voice is still so soft, like he’s trying to comfort a wounded animal. Geralt doesn’t know if he loves it or hates it.

At this point, he supposes that honesty is the best policy. Maybe if one of them is blunt, this will end more quickly, and he can go lick his wounds and leave Jaskier alone until the bard (hopefully) forgives him. He shrugs, trying to act like it’s really not a big deal (even though it really, really is), and says, "Wanted to do my best. They say write about what you know. And I... wanted your attention."

Jaskier huffs out a strangled little laugh and says, “Oh, darling. You silly witcher — you always have my attention." And then he’s standing, walking around his desk until he is leaning over Geralt and the witcher can feel the other man’s breath on his own lips and can feel their noses almost brush and there is no way this is actually happening. "Tell me if I'm reading this wrong?" Jaskier breathes, sounding almost as nervous as Geralt feels.

Swallowing thickly, Geralt answers, “I don’t think you are.”

Jaskier kisses him.

Gods, it’s incredible. It’s simple, but it’s somehow so full of promise, and he finds all of the things he feels for the bard pouring into it. 

When they pull apart, only barely, it doesn’t feel like the moment has ended. If anything, it’s just begun. Jaskier, though, doesn’t seem as sure as he is. The bard bites his lower lip, and Geralt can smell the nervousness on him.

“You know,” he says, trying to add a bit of levity with a joke, “I don’t think kissing students is considered ethical.”

The way that Jaskier whacks Geralt’s shoulder and laughs is proof that he’s had the intended effect. “It won’t affect your grade.”

Geralt grins, remembering their first conversation this semester. “I’d be offended if it did,” he answers.

**

“Can you see anything?” Maja whispers.

“Shut up,” hisses Kuba. “Geralt will hear us!”

“I’m pretty sure that he’s got more important things to focus on right now,” Kaja interjects slyly.

The three of them are fighting over the keyhole again, trying to see into the room.

At first they’d decided to take turns, because none of them wanted to miss this and they couldn’t decide on who would get to spy. Of course, one keyhole is not big enough for three bards, and taking turns can be very difficult.

“They’re kissing!” Kaja nearly squeals. “Oh sweet Melitele, it _worked!_ ” 

“Shut _up!_ ” Kuba whispers fiercely, though it’s somewhat downplayed by the wide grin he can’t keep off of his face.

As they bicker, the door opens with a click, and their squabbling is cut short by the two men now standing in the doorway.

They stand up straight as quickly as possible, almost exactly in sync. “Oh! Professor!” Maja says, a little too loudly. “We were just— uh—”

“What she _means_ to say,” Kaja interjects, “is that we had a question about, erm, about…”

They both look expectantly at Kuba, who, now vaguely panicking, shouts, “Limericks!”

“Limericks,” Jaskier repeats, amusement colouring his tone. 

“That’s right!” Maja says, even as she and her sister glare at their friend. “We don’t want to interrupt, though, so we can come back—”

“I was just leaving,” Geralt says with a glint in his eye that does not bode well for them. 

“Looks like my office has just opened up!” says Jaskier.

Fuck.

“We, uh, wanted to know if you’d written any limericks?” Kaja says. It wasn’t meant to come out like a question. 

“To compare them to the ones we’ve read,” Maja adds quickly.

“Well, I do have one,” Jaskier says with a sly grin. 

_“There once was a witcher, of course,  
Whose cock was as big as a horse  
He took a bard class  
To get some bard ass  
And his nosy classmates learned remorse.”_


End file.
